May the Stones Guide Your Way
by EvelynThursday
Summary: Small ficlets inspired by the meanings of the rune stones that I pull. The rune meanings are taken from Sunnyway. Each chapter is a standalone story/scene. Chapter 4: Christmas at the Garrison.
1. Nauthiz, Reversed - d'Artagnan, sickness

I had first heard of this type of prompt using tarot cards, but as I don't have a set (though I would love to have one) I used what I do have, rune stones!

If any of my ficlets have inspired you, feel free to add to them, I'd love to see what you make of them. The rune meanings are taken from Sunnyway . c o m .

You can find me on Tumblr (the link is in my profile).

**Nauthiz reversed: Constraint of freedom, distress, toil, drudgery, laxity. Necessity, extremity, want, deprivation, starvation, need, poverty, emotional hunger.**

Inspired by the time at school where I was on parade (it was still hanging onto the traditions from when it was a military school, the parade uniform was wool so I can commiserate with the boys and their leather) for someone important, in the middle of summer when I had an awful cold. I was only brave enough to tell one of the teachers that I needed to fall out of rank when it got to the point when I felt like I was either going to be sick or pass out. It was horrible.

* * *

Things just weren't going d'Artagnan's way today. First was that the cold that had been tickling at the back of his throat yesterday had manifested into a full blown headache, sore throat and runny nose. Second was that the sickness had knocked him over so completely that he overslept that morning and had rushed out of bed and out into the garrison courtyard to be on time for duty so fast that he didn't have time to consume anything other than a cup of watered down wine. Thirdly, on his way to the palace for that day's parade he had spied Constance, who on spotting him quickly looked away and taken a sharp turn down a side street, seemingly actively avoiding him. Forth was the stifling heat.

Standing still on parade today, that from afar looked stupidly easy, was gruellingly hard. Under the summer sun (was it still only morning, it was so hot) he was quickly regretting not having the chance to have breakfast as he was starting to feel sick from lack of food and drink. His mouth was so dry he was quite willing to drink straight out of the ornamental fountain that was teasing his thirst from the corner of his eye. His nose wasn't helping, dripping down over his top lip despite his sniffing (and he was sure that Porthos beside him had shuffled away a little to try and get away from the disgusting sound) and then evaporating what little moisture he had within him away.

The dehydration, as well as the sun, was making his head feel like it was caught in a vice. He had tried to screw up his eyes but that only made his head hurt more and didn't help with the brightness. And still, ill or not, he was supposed to be looking out for danger, rather difficult to do with his eyes shut.

D'Artagnan could feel himself start to sway as he clamped down the urge to be sick. He stilled the movement. He is a Musketeer and not supposed to show weakness.

This parade felt like it was taking years to complete, he couldn't even remember who it was that they were there in impress, other than the King and Queen.

He tried to distract himself from his plight with happy thoughts but he quickly remembered his rejection by Constance. His love for her had not dimmed and her avoiding him that morning only added to the pain in his heart.

He could feel himself swaying again, suddenly light headed under the pain and sickness within him. He heard Porthos' murmur of concern beside him but couldn't reply without feeling like he would throw up the moment he opened his mouth.

The weight in his head and the sickness in his body suddenly disappeared as the world shifted alarmingly and everything went dark.


	2. Berkano, Reversed - Aramis, anxiety

**Berkano reversed: Family problems and or domestic troubles. Anxiety about someone close to you. Carelessness, abandon, loss of control. Blurring of consciousness, deceit, sterility, stagnation.**

Set at the end of 2x07 A Marriage of Inconvenience.

* * *

Aramis tugs on his hair as he passes up and down his room in the garrison. Things just seem to be falling apart at the moment. The regiment is no longer of favour with the King, the Captain demoted then gravely injured, breaking up with Marguerite and now Porthos is acting like a bear with a sore head. He had tried to help Porthos but was briskly brushed off with a "'aven't you got a lady friend to see?" He knew Porthos was not angry with him but with Treville, but the dismissal still stung a little, especially as he was only concerned. Things just seemed to be out of control at the moment, and with the parting of his relationship with Marguerite he doesn't even have an excuse to go to the palace and 'accidently bump into' the Queen he loved or his son. Things just seem to go wrong with every step at the moment, he couldn't even keep hold of the crucifix the Queen had given him. Thank the Lord that it had been found and returned to him.

He stills his footsteps at one end of the room and sinks onto the nearby bed. Worrying wasn't going to do anybody good and the walking was only going to tire him out unnecessarily.

Something was going on with Rochefort though he had no solid evidence, only intuition and a horrid dislike. He only hopes that whatever happens in the future, he and his brothers come out the other side alive and well.

* * *

I can take suggestions of runes with situations and/or characters if anybody has anything specific in mind. Just put it in a review or in the ask box on my Tumblr.


	3. Fehu, Reversed - Porthos, kidnap

**Fehu reversed: Loss of personal property, esteem, or something that you put in effort to keep. It indicates some sort of failure. Greed, burnout, atrophy, discord. Cowardice, stupidity, dullness, poverty, slavery, bondage.**

* * *

Porthos was regretting playing that last round of poker with man in the tavern the night before. They were on a mission in a port town and whilst the others had gone off to bed he stayed with the men at the table for a few more hands, eking out his luck at not being caught cheating.

He had felt that something was dangerous about those men, though as the coin and wine was flowing he ignored the feeling at the bottom of his stomach; they were all strangers to this small town and so were unlikely to ever meet again after that night. He had thought that their speech was accented with Spanish but they had assured him that they were French but from a place near enough to the Spanish border that the accent was similar.

In hindsight he should have paid more attention to the murmurings of his opponents at the card table as he scooped up his winnings and made his way outside to relieve himself before going upstairs and joining his comrades in slumber. Instead he had ignored them and had not noticed anything was wrong until he was making his way back towards the warmth and light of the bar when pain blossomed in the back of his head and he blacked out.

He had woken about an hour ago, stripped of his weapons, uniform and possessions and was only left sitting in his trousers and shirt. He had found himself chained to a stone wall in a cold, dark cellar by metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Opposite him is a wooden door, flickering candlelight peaking though the cracks in the wood around the frame. He doesn't know where he is or how long he had been knocked out for and so has no idea how far away he is from his brothers-in-arms.

Shouting had done nothing to change his situation other than to make his headache worse, and neither had tugging on his chains, they were firmly attached to him and the wall.

After a while he could hear distant laughter and as the voices came closer to the door he could recognise that language they were speaking to be Spanish, though he didn't understand what they were saying.

He hears a lock being turned and the door opens, and a small group of grinning men enter the cellar. At their head he recognises one of the men he was gambling with and in the crowd behind he recognises the other players. He realises that he was never given their names, though he had given his.

"Dear Porthos. What a mess you have got yourself into."

"What do you want with me?" Porthos asks.

"If you haven't guessed already we are not French merchants, we are Spanish slavers, looking for fit healthy men, just like you."

"Let me out of here." He tugs on the restraints and all he is rewarded with is the jangling of chains and the laughter of the men.

"Not a very mighty Musketeer, are you now! Did you really think we didn't notice you cheating at cards? We let you continue so you would let down your guard at look at you now. You can't escape and your friends will never find you in time. You are going to be taken onto our ship and we are going to take you to Spain where there will be some men waiting for you and you will tell them everything you know about the security around the royal family and any military strategies of importance."

"I won't talk," he growls.

"I'm sure you won't, not at first. But there are methods to break any man. And after they have had their fun with you, _if_ you survive, we get to have our turn. How would you like to spend your last days tilling the soil and harvesting sugar cane in the hot Caribbean sun? Because that is where you are going. There are many men who would pay a good price for such a strong worker such as you."

"I am a Musketeer, not a slave!" Porthos yells.

"Now, now, Porthos, you _were_ a Musketeer. I'm afraid you will probably be labelled a deserter and no one will be looking for you." The man turns towards the door and the men behind him shuffle out of the room. "Enjoy your new life." He flashes a feral grin and sweeps out, locking the door behind him. There is laughter again and more chattering Spanish retreating down the corridor.

Porthos sinks into himself, helpless. He hopes that his brothers will find him.


	4. Gebo, Upright - Treville, Christmas

_I hope everyone has/is having/will have a good Yule/Christmas/winter/other celebration that I don't know/can't remember!_

**Gebo: Gifts, both in the sense of sacrifice and of generosity, indicating balance. All matters in relation to exchanges, including contracts, personal relationships and partnerships.**

* * *

Christmas time was never a restful time for the Musketeers. The King and Queen, in deference to the season, were out in public more, granting gifts of money to the churches in the city to give to the poor in their congregation and giving out other tokens of their kindness to the populace. This meant that security around the royal couple was tight and the men guarding them could not stop to enjoy the seasonal cheer like most of the population of Paris for fear of attack. It was not until the lull, halfway between Christmas and the New Year celebrations that the Musketeers could take a day off to relax.

Treville called the entire regiment into the courtyard and regarded them from his usual perch on the balcony. The soldiers stood amongst long tables set out in rows across the yard, the newcomers to the regiment looking around in confusion at the change whilst the rest reigned in anticipation.

"This year you have all provided great service to your country and your king," the Captain says to the amassed crowd. "You have worked hard during the Christmas celebrations and I know you will work just as hard for the upcoming New Year celebrations. The King is grateful for your loyal service and has granted this one day of rest. He has asked me to give you his thanks and has allowed me to gift you this meal. I too thank you; I could not imagine a better set of men to be under my command. It has been an honour serving with you for the past year and it will be for the next."

With that people started streaming out from the garrison kitchen which had been a bustle of activity all day, people drafted in from local taverns to lend a hand with cooking a feast for the soldiers were now carrying plates of food towards the tables. With clean plates and cutlery handed along the benches to every man and food laden plates and flagons of wine placed down the center of each table within reach, soon everybody was digging into the food heartily and passing the platters around, making sure that every man had their fill of what they wanted.

Treville settled himself at the end of a table, near his four Inseparables, and dished himself a few slices of meat and spoonfuls of vegetables from the closest platters. Now everybody was enjoying this feast, from the Captain to the stable boys, as equals.

Not only were the plates of food and jugs of wine were passed around, small gifts were too. This was the first time many of them had had chance to exchange presents since the start of the busy Christmas period.

Treville could see his favourite four soldiers pass gifts too, modestly wrapped up in brown paper and twine. Aramis and d'Artagnan eagerly unwrapped their presents whilst Athos and Porthos unwrapped theirs with more care, though each gift was no doubt treasured.

Athos gifted d'Artagnan with a fine scarf that was no doubt was going to be well used during the harsh winter. "Next time you want to fight someone armed only with a scarf, use your own!" He joked. He gave Aramis a medical text and Porthos a piratical novel. Aramis and Porthos had pooled their resources and gave Athos a few small volumes of sword fighting techniques and d'Artagnan a pair of knives. Aramis gave Porthos a pair of leather gloves and received a small booklet of psalms in return. D'Artagnan, being of little means, had carved each man a little wooden model of themselves astride their horse, and passed them shyly over the table. Porthos had given d'Artagnan a big hug in delight at his present and surprise at his now uncovered talent.

When there was one small present sat in the center of the table the inseparables turned towards Athos, who passed it to the man sitting next to him with instruction to pass it on. Treville was not expecting it to reach as far along the table as him.

To his surprise he found his own name written on the paper in Athos' cursive script with the note 'From A, A, P &amp; D'. The meal was his gift to his men for their year's worth of service so he was not expecting anything else in return. He turned back to Athos, who gave him a nod before rejoining his conversation with his friends.

The Captain unwrapped the present carefully and cracked a smile when he saw what was within. He kept the item by his plate for the rest of the meal, pleased at the care they had taken to find him the perfect gift.

* * *

_It's up to you to decide what Treville got, I couldn't decide!_


End file.
